


A note

by aradinfinity



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: ........, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 06:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11800776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aradinfinity/pseuds/aradinfinity





	A note

My name is XG-004. I am the last of my kind.  
I commit this record to stone, so should the Watchers awaken, they will know.  
Five hundred rotations of the worldsoul around its sun past, the majority of us were afflicted with the Curse of Flesh. They sought refuge outside of the Halls. There is no food here to sustain a population with, no space. Even should their creations recall their duty, they could not thrive here.  
Seven thousand rotations prior, the continent of Kalimdor was shattered. The Earthen felt its pain as their own. Those still waking retreated to their Halls of Slumber.  
You should understand, I have since been afflicted. My cogs do not recall details as finely as they once did. I apologise.  
I am not certain the worldsoul still lives.  
The land around the Halls, which was once verdant, is now barren. Am I guarding what is to become a tomb? Am I maintaining the last dusty vestiges of our Creator's plan for this worldsoul?  
I apologise. Doubt is not befitting an XG.  
It has been so, so long since You walked among us. But I trust You. I must.  
Having been afflicted, I also must consume material. After experimentation, this material is strictly organic in nature. I have cultivated fungi, deep within the Halls, to sustain myself. I must, for I am the last of us. The last of the mechagnomes. The others all degraded similarly. XG-029 perished thirty four point five seven three rotations prior. I buried her with the fungus. I theorized that her body would provide sustenance, and I seem to have proven correct. Before she died, she told me something. I hesitate to inscribe such a bold claim, but I must be truthful.  
She questioned that an Individual Name would only belong to You, or Your generals, or our creators. She wanted to know why such a privilege would be restricted, and we, only given designations. I told her that designations as such made it easier to tell us apart; there can only be so many combinations of sounds and letters and words that comprise an Individual Name until it is cumbersome to speak aloud, and so we lack them.  
She asked me to call her Eowyn. I did.  
It gives me a thrill to inscribe such. Why? What is the danger of calling her Eowyn? Why should it bother me if we find Individual Names, as we are the only ones left?  
Were. Were the only ones.  
My name is XG-004. I am the last of my kind.  
I feel this form failing.  
I am no longer metal. My cogs have ceased to function in some ways, and grown in others. They are constantly running systems analysis. I ache. My legs ache. My head aches. My arms ache. My processor aches. My frame aches.  
My heart aches.  
I will succumb to age before long. I cannot bear the thought of my brothers and sisters, the Earthen, sleeping away unprotected. I cannot bear the thought of them sleeping as these Halls collapse.  
Perhaps You will return shortly after I end.  
But perhaps not.  
I go now to wake them. It shall be my final act. I have stretched this body too long.  
My name is XG-004.  
Or, perhaps, Laya.

The dwarf looked up from the paper. “You're saying,” he said, lowering his glasses to peer short-sightedly over them at his comrade, “that this was discovered with the Discs?”  
“Yes. Well, no.” The dwarf opposite him frowned. “What was found was a stone tablet with etched binary. This is the translation.”  
“This,” said the first dwarf, “has serious implications,” and dropped it in a file.  
The file rested in a cabinet, seldom disturbed. Life went on.


End file.
